Diva Runs Out Of Thyme

I nearly dropped the gravy boat. “Why would they suspect Mars?” Wild notions came to mind. Had they discovered blood on Mars’s clothes? Had someone seen Mars come out of the conference room?

She cupped her hands along the sides of her face. “It’s all my fault. I never should have agreed to be in the contest. But I didn’t dream anything like this would happen.”

I should have comforted her but the gravy base on the stove demanded my immediate attention by bubbling. “What did Mars do that would make them suspect him?”

“It’s that terrible feud.”

I couldn’t help laughing. I’d forgotten all about it. “That was nothing but a publicity stunt.” Simon’s reporters routinely went through politicians’ trash cans and invented scandalous stories. Mars had called him on it and Simon had fired back. In the end, they all won. Mars’s clients got the kind of publicity they couldn’t possibly buy, and Simon’s cable network got better ratings when people tuned in to hear Mars and Simon rant at each other.

“It wasn’t a stunt, Sophie. Congressman Bieler lost his bid for reelection because of the lies Simon’s reporters invented. The worst thing is that the hatred between Mars and Simon was so public. Everyone knows about it.”

I gave the gravy base another stir and checked the time. What I really wanted at the moment was Natasha out of my kitchen so I could concentrate.

“Please, Sophie? I thought you might have some ideas. Something we can do to convince the police that Mars isn’t involved.”

She had to be kidding. I couldn’t even convince them that I wasn’t involved.

“Would you take these bottles of wine into the dining room?” I asked.

Her eyebrows rose. “They’re not decanted.”

“Oh, no! What will we do?” I was sorry as soon as the sarcastic words left my lips. “Just take them into the dining room. Please?”

I breathed a sigh of relief when she complied. The white wines didn’t need decanting and the red was only a backup for guests who didn’t like white wine.

Finally, a few minutes to concentrate on cooking. Without looking, I reached for a pot holder and encountered Humphrey’s arm.

“Could I help you with anything?” he asked.

Did I have a task that would get rid of him, too? “No, thanks. Why don’t you just visit with the others? We’ll be eating soon.” Provided I could get everyone out of my kitchen for a few minutes.

“I’ll just keep you company, then.”

He stood near the fire, his hands clasped in front of him. Each time I looked over at him, he smiled at me, his head jutting forward just a bit, like an eager vulture.

I couldn’t stand it another second. I took the mushroom caps out of the oven and slid them onto a plate with a spatula. Tangy garlic wafted to me from the sizzling filling. Seizing Humphrey’s hand, I towed him into the sunroom. “Honey, I wish I had the time to introduce you to everyone. But here’s Mom.” I released his hand and smiled at him. “She’ll take good care of you and make sure you meet everyone. Won’t you, Mom?”

Without waiting for a response, I handed her the mushroom caps and fled back to the kitchen. Mars and I had hosted plenty of parties when we were married and most of them came off quite smoothly. I could handle this, too. I just needed a few quiet minutes to finish everything.

Natasha returned and tapped me on the back. “You forgot to put out the place cards.”

“There aren’t any.”

“You should always make place cards. How will we know where to sit?”

“Until this morning, I thought there would be six of us. Didn’t seem like a major problem.”

She explained, as if to a child. “Had you set out place cards you would have spared me the possible embarrassment of having to sit near June, whom I cannot abide at this moment since she burned down most of my house. I could have very discreetly switched them.”

I couldn’t help snickering and turned away from her so she wouldn’t see. Was it June or me, the alleged murderer, whom she couldn’t abide?

I collected myself enough to say, “Thank you, Natasha. I never realized place cards were for you to rearrange to suit yourself.”

She ignored my sarcasm. “You should have prepared the leaves days ago. Don’t you watch my show? You have to place them between heavy books so they’ll dry flat.” She sighed. “I’ll just go out into your garden to see what I can use.”

Just then Vicki sidled up to me and whispered, “I thought you should know that the cop from yesterday is hanging around outside.”

“What?” I followed her to the dining-room window that fronted on the street.

Sure enough, Wolf stood on the sidewalk, watching the house.

“For pity’s sake.” I headed to the door.

“Sophie,” she said, tugging at the collar of her silk blouse, “if he thinks you killed Simon, it’s probably not wise to confront him.”

Hers was the voice of reason but I ignored her. I hadn’t killed anyone. I marched outside and straight up to Wolf. “If you’re going to work on Thanksgiving Day, you might as well come inside and eat with us. That way you can keep a closer eye on me. I have a ton of guests. Believe me, I’m not going anywhere.”